


Sunlight

by VelvetCactus



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherly Bonding, Dean Winchester is a mess, Depression, Distance, Drunk Texting, Ex's to Lovers, Heavy Angst, M/M, More tags to be added, Mutual Pining, Seperation, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29228055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelvetCactus/pseuds/VelvetCactus
Summary: There was nothing fun about the life of Dean Winchester: getting into college only to drink his nights away and dwell in his own head for days on end. Everything seemed to be turning even more stale than before until one night Dean drunk texts his ex-boyfriend Castiel Novak whom he hadn't talked to in months.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **tw//alcoholism, depression, suicidal thoughts, hangover.**

_"I think that’s enough for tonight.”_

_“Watch where you’re going!”_

_“Get out of my face, punk.”_

_“Not again, Dean.”_

The distant voices of midnight echoed in Dean’s head as the sunlight peered in through the open window. He lifted himself up on his elbows and squinted his eyes, to protect himself from the agonizing brightness. Dean was still in his night out clothes: blue jeans and a red flannel that had a peculiar stain in the middle. He was still quite disoriented and the thundering headache did very little to compensate for that. Dean reached toward his phone which was laying on the nightstand, right beside his bed. Unfortunately, the screen stayed black, no matter what button he pressed.`` _It’s dead.”_ Dean thought and laid back down on the bed, covering his face with a pillow. 

Everything smelled a thousand times stronger and Dean could’ve sworn he had gained some superhuman senses. The once soft-smelling washing powder that made the pillow case smell like lilacs, now reeked of a hundred scented candles lit at once. It was nauseating. The man pressed his lips together as tightly as he could, so he’d prevent anything escaping his mouth, that might rise up his esophagus. And for a brief moment it worked. Dean had learned how to deal with mornings like these and it seemed as if his body grew more and more used to it. A lot of the time he would only remember how he got into the bar and the rest would be a single blur -- perhaps just bits and pieces of the events that partook the previous night were scattered all around his mind. If he tried hard enough to remember, perhaps he could. He just didn’t want to. _He was afraid to._

Suddenly the doors to his room opened and the overwhelming smell of coffee flooded his room. Dean groaned loudly, making it clear to the entree that he was annoyed with their presence. However, instead of fading, the steps just grew closer.

“Dean. Get up,” a familiar muffled voice spoke. 

“Get out of my room, Sam,” Dean said through gritted teeth, fighting the nausea in every way he could. 

“Oh my God, you’re insufferable.” Sam sighed and swiftly snatched the pillow away from his brother's face. “I’ve been calling you all morning. Why didn’t you pick up?”

Dean flinched from Sam’s actions and desperately tried to reach back for the pillow, but the sudden movement caused him sudden sharpness in the temples and forced the man to lay back down. “Can you be a little more quiet? I have a headache.”

Sam let out a brief chuckle, which sounded full of sarcasm, as well as dissatisfaction. “The audacity you have, it’s-- it’s actually unbelievable.” 

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Dean’s vision finally adjusted to the light and he could finally see the figure standing in front of him, his brother. As always, Sam had looked so worried, his lips tightly pressed together and arms crossed on his chest. Dean lied, of course. He knew what he had done and he knew what his brother had to go through. Dean hated disappointing his family and friends, but somehow deep down understood that no matter what he did everything will just end up being--

“Disappointing. We talked about this before, Dean. How could you push everything aside like that?” Sam frowned. 

“I’m a grown man, Sam. Let me live.” Dean sat up, feeling blood rush to his temples.

“You’re saying _this_ is your life?” Sam gestured to the messy room, the sunlight being the only thing that radiated some sort of harmony.”You went out in the middle of the night, without telling me anything. I was worried, you know. I kept calling and calling, but you-- you never answered. Am I not supposed to be worried sick? Well I was. And what do I see when I come in the morning? Vomit on the bathroom floor and my own brother smelling like whiskey and...Pickles? No. What even--”Sam pointed at Dean’s shirt in disgust. “What even is that stain?” 

“Listen, I appreciate your worries, but you don’t need to baby me, alright? I’m a grown ass man and I can handle this myself. See?”Dean lifted up his hands as far in the air as he could.”I’m here. I’m fine.”

“I don’t baby you and you know it yourself. It’s your last year. You’re wasting your degree on things like that. You know you can just talk to me if--” Sam’s voice faded out.

Dean let down his hands and his brother’s words became muffled and distant. Dean didn’t dare to look at Sam’s eyes, so he fixated on his forehead, instead. Wrinkles. His younger brother’s forehead had wrinkles when he spoke. Something deep down struck Dean and he felt unable to speak, to muster out a sound, even. He understood that everything was going down the drain, yet he couldn’t stop. There was a gaping hole inside of Dean’s chest that just gradually grew more and more. _Wrinkles. Sam has wrinkles._ Was it because of Dean? Was it because the younger brother worried so much, that it’s becoming visible each time even more? 

Dean slowly moved his head to the right and blankly stared at the room. It was atrocious. The window stills were covered in dust and clothes as well as random trash, like wrappers lingered everywhere on the floor. The desk, which the computer rested on, was filled with paper plates and plastic bottles. His only solace was the light coming right through the window behind him. The same light that wakes him every morning and the same light that watches over when he sleeps. He felt pressure forming around his eyes as he curled his hand into a fist, to hold back any tears that might escape. 

“You know what? Forget it. Just…” Sam sighed and Dean lifted up his eyes to his brother. “Call me next time, okay? I was worried sick. So is the professor. You missed a lot of classes and if you don’t get it together--”the younger brother rubbed his face.”I don’t know. Call me next time. I’d rather sleep knowing you’re not dead, you know.” 

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.” Dean replied briefly. Strangely, he did not wish to explain himself or to look for any excuses. It was truly embarrassing for Dean to be found like this by his own brother. He was afraid that if he were to continue the conversation, the pressure in his eyes might not stay hidden for any longer. 

“Do you need any coffee?” Sam’s eyes lingered somewhere in the distance, which made Dean feel somehow worse. 

“No, it’s fine. I’ll take care of myself, thank you.” He answered and shot his brother a small smile. This was a hint for him to go.

“You do that, okay?” Sam walked to the door and stopped himself to look at his brother as he opened it.”Now, if you need anything, please call me and don’t leave me hanging like that again.” He didn’t wait for an answer or a nod. He just left.

Dean laid back down on his back and stared at the white ceiling. Sometimes he’d imagine that he’s not in college, but rather in some kind of a summer home, where the beach could be seen right out of the window. He wanted to feel the warm breeze and the salt water at his feet. Dean desperately wanted to believe that this is what it took for him to be happy, but deep down strong doubt lingered and it was clear that it wasn’t the case. It felt so strange to him how the only person that cared for him was his brother. And even then, Dean let him down. He was supposed to be the perfect big brother that showed a proper example and took care of his sibling, yet, it was the other way around. It felt shameful for Dean. Now there was a possibility that the only person he cares about him might turn away, just because of how much pain Sam has endured. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Dean whispered to himself and buried his face in his palms, letting out a quiet sob. “So sorry...” 

Salty tears ran down Dean’s face, sticking to his fingers as well. The man felt the headache worsen. He wasn’t even sure what he was feeling anymore. One part of him wanted to get away from this, to apologise to Sam and run away, but his other side was screaming that no matter where he goes, he will feel miserable regardless. These pointless nights spent at bars and in different people’s beds gave him momentary satisfaction. The consequences were here and they were real, he knew that he was failing his last year of college, he knew he was growing distant to Sam. Dean knew this too well, and yet, he wasn’t sure if he cared too much or too little. Days spent wasting one’s life away, were dripping like the sand in an hourglass. Dean wanted the sand to run out faster, but the thought of Sam suffering kept some of his scattered-self intact.

Dean let out another sob and brought up his knees to his chest, feeling his stomach growl. It was quite a sight to see: the sun was shining through the window, dyeing the white walls in a completely golden colour, creating a harmonic view. And right under a window there was a crying hungover man that was illuminated by the sun as well. It seemed as if he was being comforted, embraced by the one thing that kept this planet alive. But instead of comfort, Dean felt pressure. 

He slowly removed his hands from his tear stained face and hugged his knees, trying to control the nausea. Dean held in his breath for a brief minute, trying to calm himself down. It was a strange method, yet it seemed to help every time. He lay like this for a while, staring at the clothing littered room. The only bare minimum he could’ve done, was let Sam know where he was. And yet, he failed. 

_Phone._

Dean remembered that his phone laid flat on the nightstand. The thought of Sam calling again and not reaching him mortified Dean. He mustered up enough strength and reached for the smartphone. His head throbbed and his stomach growled, but he knew that he had to do this for Sam. At least this one little thing. Dean tried to unlock the phone. Nothing. It’s dead. He plugged it into the outlet (which was thankfully near the bed, so as the charger) and furrowed his eyebrows. The screen lit up and there was a number written on it “ _76%” ._ Dean wasn’t sure if it were because of the tears, blurring his vision or his hangover, but he could’ve sworn he never turned off his phone for no reason. Perhaps it died on it’s own? Dean couldn’t help but feel anxious as he clicked the button, to turn it on. It felt as if there had been something that he had to remember. Something that lingered in the back of his mind because his whole being, strangely, didn't want to see the contents inside of the item. Dean felt his heart hammering in his chest as he typed in the PIN code. _Perhaps the phone just fell down and it turned off?_ As the screen loaded properly, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, about twenty calls were missed from Sam and a bunch of unread text messages flooded his mailbox. 

He opened the messages app and froze in place. The shameful memories of last night were finally coming back to him and his headache was now hammering, the nausea was even stronger than before. Dean remembered. He remembered why he turned off his phone. He knew why, with every fiber of his being, he avoided the device. 

3:30 am Dean had texted his ex-boyfriend Castiel Novak “ _I miss you._ ” There was a reply that followed,“ _We need to talk._ ”


	2. Chapter 2

Everything about Dean’s and Castiel’s relationship was ordinary, but there was nothing ordinary about Novak. At least that’s what Dean thought most of the time. His ex boyfriend was quite a talker when they were alone - Castiel would talk for hours and Dean would listen quietly and attentively, carefully watching the way Novak’s lips moved. However, when they had company, Castiel and Dean would switch their roles and the latter would do the talking while Novak observed. They completed each other almost perfectly, being different harmonies that made the most ethereal tune. Or so Dean thought. At least in the beginning.

He had no time to think, to deal with the aftermath of the night out. Consequences of Dean’s actions were slowly crawling up his back, ready to swing full force. 

Dean now sat in the cafeteria, his senses filling up with the smell of horrid coffee and bacon. Everything was still nauseating and he barely ate, but his mind lingered over the events that gave him a more unpleasant evening than he had anticipated. He was looking at the distorted reflection in his coffee that stared back at Dean, slowly shifting and changing as the grey steam rose up slowly from the cup. He felt frozen in place, his mind completely ablaze and yet, so empty at the same time. It wasn’t a lie that Castiel had a severe effect on Dean, despite having broken up six months ago. Surely, that was enough time to let go, to let the feeling cease. Dean was fine just a couple of months ago, why now do the feelings return, ready to torment at the vulnerable moment? None of this made sense. 

_ “We need to talk.” _

Those words were engraved in Dean’s mind, they were a piece of his existence, a small part of the puzzle that was forever doomed to remain unfinished. What could Castiel possibly want? Dean felt unsure as if he would be able to handle Novak’s disappointment, perhaps even rejection. He shivered. The only reason why Castiel hadn’t called, was because he waited for any kind of a response from Dean. If he stayed silent, perhaps this would have been blown over quietly and both of the men could move over with their lives, without having to second doubt themselves. Maybe. But Dean was stubborn and the anxiety of being in the dark ate him alive. Despite wanting to stay realistic, the man thought  _ What if he wanted me back?  _ Dean knew that it was not possible, it hurt, surely, but somewhere deep down, at the very pit of his very soul, he  _ believed _ and wanted to believe. Dean had wanted to hold onto this feeling as it was somewhat comforting. Sunlight in the midst of the darkest of nights.

“Dean?” Sam stood next to Dean, without being noticed. “I have called you over, but you didn’t seem to respond.” He sighed. “Again.”

The older brother lifted up his eyes. It was quite peculiar to Dean how his brother had been so collected and calm even after worrying so much. His hair was tied to a bun perfectly and there had been no trace of stress and messiness. Sam’s jacket had also been stainless and ironed, the yellow sleeves did not have a single strand of yarn hanging loosely, so did the dark blue vest.

“Sorry, I was just thinking.” He looked back down at the cup and frowned. Shabby beard, messy hair and red eyes.

“I’m just glad you came here.” Sam replied and sat in a chair right in front of his brother. “Staying in that room won’t do you much good, you know.” He rested his hands on the table, leaning slightly forward. 

“I know.” Dean repeated Sam.

As he watched the coffee slowly swirl in the cup, he was wondering if Sam should know about what he had done the previous night. Sam knowing, would mean awareness that consequences are finally catching up for Dean’s actions. That would mean that this is just the start of something bad.

“You can talk to me, Dean, I’m your brother.” Sam stated.

Cold sweat settled upon Dean’s skin and his eyes lingered back up at Sam. He was still nauseous and the hammering in his head never actually stopped, so he had no need in getting sentimental in a smelly cafeteria alongside people that now seemed like the noisiest creatures on the planet.

The guilt and the shame seemed to be piling up in the very core of his now clobbering heart. It’s true, Sam was his brother and perhaps too many things were hidden from him already. He didn’t deserve to be living in the dark like this. At least not again. Dean had messed up many times before, it’s time to make it up one small step at a time, no matter how much damage his pride may take.

“I messed up, Sam. Badly.” He spoke trying to sound as least sloppy as possible. “And big time.” Dean let out a single laugh, which made his brother’s eyebrows furrow.

“Then it’s not a laughing matter. What happened?” Sam’s chest rose higher this time. 

Dean rubbed the back of his neck and hesitated. He had no more time to think what his brother would think of him.  _ Perhaps he should’ve thought this through first before making any impulsive decisions. _

“Well, I, uh…” Dean coughed into his fist. “I may have  _ accidentally  _ texted Castiel at about three in the morning and now uh… He wants to talk to me.”

Silence. Sam’s had raised his eyebrows really slowly as his mouth opened very slightly. Dean had imagined a few scenarios in his head to how his brother would react to this and this was definitely not one of them. At this point he was able to hear the throbbing of his brain, the rushing of the blood and the pounding of the ever beating heart.

“You…” Sam spoke and immediately pressed his lips tightly for a good second, before stating anything else, eyebrows now lowered to a scowl. “...Drunk texted your ex?”

“I did, yes.” Dean confirmed, awaiting for further judgement.

To his surprise Sam just covered his face with his palms. “Oh my God, Dean.” He said with a deep sigh.

“I know I’m a mess and it just happened--” Dean began justifying himself as he felt the immediate need to do so. Because everything is his fault.  _ Right? _

“It’s not about you texting someone, it’s about you scaring the living crap out of me, Dean, saying that you screwed up big time.” He sighed again and dropped his hands to the side. “I thought you killed my law professor or something.”

Dean raised his hands up in defense, despite feeling severe embarrassment. Perhaps he should’ve really thought about what he’s going to say. But the damage had already been done and guilt peered up again from the shadows with its piercing eyes staring right at Dean. He had hurt Sam again even though his goal was to finally open up. All he wanted to do was not hurt the people dearest and closest to him for once. Yet he spiraled back to where he started. Perhaps it never mattered if he told the truth or lied, both will end up hurting someone at the end. Maybe the truth was even more painful than the lies, created to ease the severity of an unpleasant situation. No. He respected his brother too much to lie. Just maybe…

“Doesn’t matter now. I’m glad you didn’t commit tax fraud or something like that.” Sam spoke yet again. “So this was the messing up? You drunk texting Castiel?”

“Yes. And you know  _ how _ it was with him. And the fact that he wants to talk I--” Dean’s voice hitched for a moment. “I-- I am not sure I can handle it.”

Sam’s gaze softened and he frowned. “I do. You don’t have to talk to him if it’s going to make you feel worse. It’s a big step forward, I think. You hadn’t talked in like, what, five months?”

“Six, actually.” Dean sighed. “I know that, but I want to know what he has to say. I did drunk text him three in the morning, he has the right to be angry and lash out.”

“He’s not going to do that.” Sam shook his head in disapproval. “You know that yourself. Curiosity killed the cat, Dean. Remember that.”

“Yes, but curiosity and the cat weren’t dating for a year and a half, you know.” Dean’s gaze shifted back to the cup of black liquid.

Sam pressed his lips tight.”Did he tell you anything else?”

“No.” Dean answered briefly.

“Not even a hint?”

“Not even a hint,” The older brother echoed Sam’s words.

There was silence. The two brothers sat in front of each other not having said a thing. To a bystander it might have looked toxic, strange, even, but both of them knew that it was not the case. Despite not having a single noise escape their mouths, they could understand each other perfectly, as if they were connected to each other one way or another. Both of the boys took brotherhood seriously and they wouldn’t have traded it for anything else in the world.  _ If I were to choose between Castiel and Sam, I would choose Sam.  _ Dean was also sure that his brother would do the absolute same. Or he hoped so. 

“So what are you planning on doing? Any clue?” Sam broke the silent prayer.

“I don’t know.” Dean lifted up his head to face the man sitting in front of him. “I wanted to ask you, but it seems as if you know just as much as I do.”

“What does your heart tell you? I am sure that you know more than you let yourself realise that.” Sam’s expression was filled with worry and confusion.

Dean wasn’t good at being sentimental or maybe he just wasn’t good at accepting how emotional he could get. He felt so much and so severely, that it ended up feeling like nothing at all. The void. Emptiness. 

“One part of me wants to talk to him and the other is…” Dean’s voice trailed. “The other is hesitant.”

Sam was looking at his brother with eyes that seemed to radiate support and full understanding. It was quite obvious that the two of them were clueless at this point, but talking it out felt comforting. It didn’t matter if their words were nonsense or had no ending conclusion, both of them felt safe, at least for a moment.

“If we have the pros and cons settled, we could think about it.” The younger one offered.

“I don’t know. I really need to think about this before I do anything.” Dean sighed. “What would you do in my situation?”

“Hm, I think I’d just block Castiel. He is a good dude, don’t get me wrong, but things like that just stand in your way of moving on and stepping forward. It may hurt, I know, but you are the person that should be the most important to you.”

Sam was right. If he ended up calling Novak, it would lead him to a spiral and it’s as if no progress was made at all. It didn’t matter if Dean was already at the bottom.

“Alright, I’ll take your words in consideration.” Dean stood up and the view around him spun for a good minute.

“Where are you going?” Sam raised his eyebrows.

“To the dorm. I need to seriously nap before I throw up on the table.” The older brother replied through gritted teeth.

“This is the last time you miss your classes, Dean. If you skip another day of college I’ll drag you by the collar myself.” Sam replied.

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try.” Dean stated, slowly beginning to regret his boldness, as every second whilst he was standing, felt excruciating.

“Pickles. Mayo. Ham.” The law student stood up and pestered his brother calmly, being fully aware of what he was doing.

Dean covered his mouth and gritted his teeth as strongly as he could, engulfed in sweat. As the nausea died down for a moment he removed his hand and mouthed to Sam ‘I hate you.’ That seemed to spark something satisfactory to the man and he shot an innocent smile. 

“I’ll see you Monday.” Sam turned to go, but stopped himself. “You forgot your coffee.”

“You can…” Dean took a deep breath and felt his senses calming down. “You can take it.” 

Sam reached for the cup and moved it up to his lips. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at his brother. “It’s cold.”

“Yeah, that’s what you deserve.” Dean felt triumphant.

“Waffles, past-” Sam spoke quickly, directly looking at his brother.

Dean covered his ears with the both of his palms and cut Sam off. “Goodbye!” 

He left as quickly as possible, despite Sam not naming any more foods. The younger brother was not malicious and he hadn’t done this to make Dean’s life harder, he was sure of it. Going to classes meant leaving the room that most of the days he would find himself sulking in. Perhaps it would be a good idea to leave it once in a while whilst being sober or conscious. 

Dean plopped down on his bed as soon as he got back. Returning to the room made him realise how much it smelled of alcohol and trash. He let himself go, that was true, but was he able to put himself back together? Maybe. He knew it would take time and a lot of effort. It was possible to climb out, but did he want to? 

Dean took his phone and stared at the message that Castiel had sent him.  _ We need to talk _ . Dean was curious and anxious simultaneously. His finger hovered over the  _ block  _ button as he recalled some of Sam’s advice. Maybe Castiel was the bridge to moving forward, to letting go and forgetting all the hurt that had plagued him day in and day out. But will one man change his life? It was not possible. It was unfair. Everything he had done in his life, led up to this moment. To Dean letting go. 

He removed his finger from the button. If he had rejected Castiel, he would have lived forever never knowing what he had wanted to tell him. Every day he would wake up in distress, guilt leaning over him and laughing at the older brother’s face. Dean would feel just as miserable if he had called him. But he would be miserable knowing.

That was the difference between Sam and Dean. Sam had always thought through everything and anything. And Dean? He was prone to impulsivity.

Without much further debate he pressed the  _ call  _ button and heard his hammering heart.

One ring.

Two rings.

After the second ring a voice spoke on the other end.

“Hello, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, there in no wincest, it's just brotherly bonding. thank you


End file.
